


A Right Cunt

by pennem



Category: Oasis (Band)
Genre: /thinks about liam/, Gen, Just Brothers Being Brothers, No Incest, god im Soft, i love one man, i love two men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-02
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25025407
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pennem/pseuds/pennem
Summary: Liam and Noel have a history with violence. Sometimes, there are missteps.
Relationships: Liam Gallagher & Noel Gallagher
Comments: 5
Kudos: 21





	1. Childhood

_1982:_

It starts off like it always does. Their father in a drunken rage, Noel refusing to bend to his will on one thing or another, belligerently staring him down in that very quiet, condescending way of his.

Something changes this night. Liam is 11 to Noels 17, and he sees his brother on the floor between their beds in the room they share, blood running down his nose. He’s crumpled in a heap where he’s fallen, breathing hard with his eyes shut in a grimace as their father towers over him, still screaming bloody murder.

Liam never sees this. It’s never been spoken but it’s always been clear that when their father is drunk, Liam makes himself scarce until he leaves the house again. This, hovering in the doorway and watching, he’s not sure why he’s doing it but his feet are frozen to the ground and he can’t look away.

Their father pulls Noels head up by his hair and there’s a keening sound, and something in Liam snaps and he yells out something he can’t even remember the next second, heart thundering in his throat. His head is swimming and he feels sick, like he wants to crawl out of his skin and disappear. It only intensifies when Noel looks up and meets his eyes, pain and surprise quickly overshadowed by something that looks a lot like fear. Next second the man turns his attention on him, and he takes a second to gape at him before he laughs. It’s a cruel sound, mocking and biting, and Liam would prefer the yelling at this point.

He hears Noel say something but all Liam can do is stare up at his father, frozen, fear thundering in his throat as he grabs him by the scruff of his shirt, now bellowing out threats. He looks deranged, and Liam finds himself shaking under the assault.

“You fucking piece of shit bastard, you lay a hand on him and I’ll fucking kill you.”

Noel has hauled himself up and is glaring at the man with an anger Liam hasn’t seen before, and his voice is steady as a rock. Even as their father turns back to him, clearly getting angrier by the second, he just glares back. Liam never understands where Noel gets the balls.

“What the fuck did you say to me?” It’s low, and seething with rage. Liam’s still shaking.

“You fuckin heard me.” Rock steady.

The hand releases him and heavy footsteps double back, hands already curled into fists. Noel stands his ground, bracing himself as he meets Liam’s eyes for just a second. Liam sees the warning clear as day in his brothers eyes and he takes it.

_Run._

* * *

Noel is pretty sure he’s going to regret what he’s just done. He fights back on instinct but it doesn’t get him far, and seconds later, he’s picked up by the scruff of his hoodie and launched across the room. Never underestimate drunken rage, he thinks blearily before he smashes into the cupboard door, and he crumples with a giant crash. He can’t breathe for a second, and the next all he can hear is his own stilted and harsh breathing over the thundering in his ears.

He’s being hauled up again, beer breath wafting over his face as he weakly tries to hold his head up and dislodge the hands, a move he knows has no use. His father looks angrier than he’s ever seen him, face red and sweaty. Still, he’s not going to give in and he kicks out, knowing he’s made impact when he hears the dull thud and “oof!”, and then he’s yanked around, face shoved painfully against the cupboard.

A sweaty hand clamps over his mouth, and all he has time to think is his arm should not be bending this way before he’s gasping and arching his back trying to lessen the strain, and there’s a jerk and a pop as his shoulder pops out.

Pain like he has never felt before overwhelms his being and for once, Noel screams, half sobbing into the hand that’s making him feel like he can’t breathe. Some part of him disassociates for a second, from the pain and the misery and his head spinning, before he’s back, and he’s on the floor, his bad arm lying uselessly to his side.

He wants to curl up but a hand grabs his neck and pulls him up.

“I said, do you fucking understand?”

He has a faint idea of what he’s supposed to have understood, but he hasn’t been listening really due to the sheer amount of pain and the general lack of breath, but he gives fuckall about anything as he turns his head towards the face he’s come to hate, grits his teeth in what he knows is a bloody and swollen grimace and spits straight in his face.

Deliriously, as fingers clasp around his neck from behind and squeeze until he sees stars, he wonders if the man might actually kill him today. The pressure goes on until he _really_ can’t breathe and his instincts kick in and he’s struggling, legs kicking feebly and hands weakly trying to pry the fingers away. It goes on until his face and lungs feels like they’re going to explode from the pressure and his vision is starting to blur, his view of the carpet fading as black creeps in, and then it’s gone and he’s coughing and choking on his own breath, and it _hurts_. Tears involuntarily slide down his face and he can hear the wheeze in his throat and it feels like he’s swallowed _glass_. Instinctively, he tries to crawl away, even though they both know he has no chance of crawling out from under the body pinning him down. His bad arm screams at him as he moves it, and then the fingers are back, cruelly digging back into the already abused skin and shaking him. It catches him mid breath and he chokes, and he hazily wonders if that keening sound was coming from him.

The black creeps in faster, eyes blurred with more tears, and then finally, mercifully, he blacks out.

* * *

Liam knows he should move, but he stays in the doorway and stares at his brother, convinced he’s dead he’s _killed_ him until Noel shifts and a mangled groan makes its way out his throat.

There’s a wheezy cough, and another, and another, and Noel is clenching his fist, eyes screwed shut. There’s dried tears tracking through the blood. Liam hasn’t stopped shaking. Even now, when their father is long gone, Liam doesn't think he's ever going to feel safe again.

He whispers his brothers name, slowly crawling towards him. He gets a groan in response, and when Noel opens his eyes, it's only for long enough for Liam to see they’re completely bloodshot before they close again.

He intends to curl up under his brothers arm like he always does, wherever Noel ends up after a bout with their father and needs time to collect himself. Except this time, Noel hisses out a “no!” as Liam moves his arm, and he drops it like a stone as his brother lets out a strangled gasp, wheezing heavily into the carpet.

“Liam…get Paul.” Another cough. He sounds like a smoker, like his voice is trying to crawl out of a cheese grater.

“He won’t…He won’t come”. He hates how his voice is shaking too. Paul shuts himself into his room when he’s not the target, something that Liam simultaneously hates him for but also doesn’t blame him for.

Another wheeze. “Tell him I need him to fix my shoulder…he’ll come.”

Paul does come, surprisingly, and Liam hovers in the doorway as he pops his shoulder back in. Noel muffles his scream into the blanket he’s biting on, which causes more coughing, and then he just lays there with his face still buried in it, like he has no will to move anymore.

Paul wordlessly checks his head for any lumps, and seemingly satisfied, walks out like he’d just walked in to have a chat. The demands burn on Liam’s tongue for him to get mom, help him, do _something_ , but he finds himself not saying anything as the door shuts behind him.

Liam gets back on his knees next to the unmoving figure. “Noel?”

Noel finally lifts his head and looks at Liam, and the emptiness in his red eyes makes something in him ache. He half rolls onto his side, wincing as he curls his now fixed arm onto his chest, other hand shakily hovering over his throat. There’s still a wheeze in his breath, but he seems to have caught it now, and wordlessly, Liam helps him up into a sitting position and then up until he can help him hobble onto his bed.

There had been no waiting, so Noel is still fully dressed, but all he seems to be able to manage is to kick off his shoes. Liam helps him fashion a sling out of a discarded shirt, and with much gasping they maneuver his arm into it. They go through the routine of wiping off the worst of the blood, and getting something cold onto his swelling face and throat. Noel sounds wrecked still, and the bruises on his throat are red and angry, so some warm water is introduced in.

It's late and quiet, and he’s so tired and on edge, and Liam can’t help but wonder when this became a _routine._

When he’s cleaned up the mess, Liam stands for a second, suddenly feeling very out of place. He catches his brothers eyes, and the _red_ around his neck and the air of exhaustion and defeat makes him feel like throwing up. Then, Noel shifts to make space and holds out his good arm, and Liam immediately climbs in next to him and curls up under it.

They lie there in silence, Noel’s wheezy breath the only sound along with the crickets outside. This is safe.

“What a right cunt he is.”

He says it before he’s planned to, and there’s a small huffed laugh, guarded and still a little hitched like it hurts, but it’s there.

“That he is.”

* * *

They wordlessly skip school the next day, because they know their mother won't notice and their father won't return for the next few days, which is fine by everyone. Noel wakes up in more pain than Liam has ever seen him in. The bruising on his throats darkened something ugly, and Liam knows there's a wicked headache beating behind those pinched brows. He tries not to hover, and thinks he does a pretty good job at it. He complains enough when Noel asks him to make him some tea, and complains when Noel plays records all day because he can't really talk without sounding like he's gargling glass shards. 

When Paul comes in later and claps Noel _hard_ on the back, making some crack about Noel finally sounding like the edgy rockstar he's always wanted to be, and Noel chokes out a gasp of pain at the rough treatment, Liam tackles Paul to the ground with a growl and not a second thought.

* * *

A couple of days later, their mother spots the now deep purple finger marks on Noels throat where his turtle neck slips down. She yanks the neck down and stares blankly until Noel quickly rights it. He doesn’t have to say anything for them to know he’ll barely be able to speak. There’s an awkward silence between the three of them, in their tiny kitchen, before she turns and silently and slowly, like a woman possessed, walks up the stairs.

A week later, they pack up and leave.

* * *

_ 1995: _

Liam walks into the mixing room, his head starting to pound like the makings of a proper hangover he’s sure he’s going to have in a few hours. He's really overdone it today, but any residual anger he’s been holding onto deflates as he looks at his brother through the glass.

He doesn’t do this. Liam never comes back to the studio after they fight, and they both know it. This is where Noel stays back, writing and working in peace while Liam goes off to do his debauchery for the night. But tonight was not like every other night.

It had been a bad one. No one had been around when they’d started in, and Liam remembers them screaming at each other before Noel had apparently crossed a line, and Liam had swiftly tackled him. They’d rolled around for a bit, instruments getting knocked over and curses flying liberally before Liam had gotten in a solid hit to Noels face and gotten the upper hand, arm hooked around his brothers neck and arm pinned as he sneered at him to cry uncle.

It hasn’t occurred to him at that point, the similarity, under the wave of rage he was riding. It wasn’t until he’d wrenched his arm back some more and tightened his hold a bit that Noel had choked out his name, voice no more than a rasp, that Liam had realized what he was doing. That noise had bought him back immediately, to the memory of beer breath and hiding in the hall closet, hands clamped over his ears and still being able to hear the crashes and _choking_. He’d let go and staggered back immediately as his brother coughed on the floor, trying to catch his breath, and bolted.

Now, Noel is sitting half curled up in a chair, legs propped up on another chair under the small table. There’s paper on the table and the floor, some half crumpled, the favorite green pen lying discarded. The mess they made has been cleaned up. His brother has his forehead propped up on the fingers of his hand, eyes closed, and Liams hand clench in his pockets as he spots the bruise on his eye. He could be asleep and there’s no bruise on his throat, but his brows are scrunched like he has a headache.

There’s something that feels an awful lot like _guilt_ sitting In his chest. Logically, he knows this was just another fight, but he feels like there was some delicate balance that he'd upset tonight. For some reason, he finds himself remembering all the brawls they’ve had over the years. Liam had eventually learned to hold his own as he surpassed his brother in height. His brother is no delicate flower, and there had been plenty of headlocks, grappling, yelling and general rolling about before Liam even learned to fight back.

But Noel has never once hit him.

They never talk about it or acknowledge it, even when Liam holds back no stones and lets his own fists fly and even when Noel lays into him the way only Noel can, and they end up bruised and furious, only one of them ever ends up bloody. Liam thinks he knows why; he’s dense as bloody metal according to Noel, but in his heart, he knows why.

The thought of it makes him want to scream in frustration because he’s a grown man, but the other part of him feels what he can only describe as _home_.

A house never was a home, after all.

Mind made up, he walks into the studio. Noel doesn’t seem to notice at first as he goes to grab another chair off to the side, but he has his head up and is looking at him warily as he brings it over, like he expects to get clobbered with it.

Liam wordlessly puts it right next to him, and collapses onto it with a sigh, not looking at Noel. He can feel the confusion pouring off of Noel in waves, and knows those giant eyebrows are furrowed, and it would be almost comical if he hadn’t seen the very obvious black eye and wasn’t choking on the guilt. But it’s not and it’s there and he feels it, so Liam shoves his brothers legs to the side and puts his up on the same chair. They barely fit, but it’s nice to be stretched out and knocking knees. He manually lifts up his brothers arm over himself and curls up onto his shoulder, glasses digging into his nose, and tries not to feel hurt at the way Noel flinches slightly.

Noel is still stiff as a board, like he doesn’t really understand what’s happening. His hand is hovering inches over Liam, still.

“A right cunt he is, that Liam.” It slips out just like before, but its soft, and Liam can never be bothered to say anything that's not on his mind anyway.

There’s a beat, and another, and his brothers body seems to deflate as he huffs out a laugh, and finally brings his hand down to properly put it around him and Liam knows he’s forgiven. 

Liam knows they’re both thinking about that night, and the countless others he’s spent curled up under this very arm. They don’t think about the rest of it. They never do. But Liam has to try really hard _not_ to remember how Noel could barely talk or stand up straight for a week after.

They sit in silence for a minute, and it’s a silence that feels needed and sacred. They haven’t done this in _years_.

He’s halfway dozed off when there’s a sigh and he feels Noel's body relax even more. A hand comes up to rest on his head, cool fingers brushing his forehead, and clumsily curls into his hair, squeezing gently with something that feels like frustration, forgiveness, _love_.

“The best one out there, that Liam.”

Liam focuses on the cool knuckle on his forehead and the softness in his brothers voice, and drifts off with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was reading about the gallagher brothers childhoods and made myself sad, then i read a whole bunch of things about their relationship and made myself even sadder, and this happened? Liberties taken with history and ages.
> 
> I obviously own nothing and this is all fiction.


	2. The Accident, Part 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based off the real car crash Noel was in during the 2002 US tour

Noel wakes up stiff and sore, and drags a hand across his eyes before he remembers, and has to groan at the pain from his abused face, blinking at the afternoon light streaming through the windows.

He doesn’t know how last night had escalated so fast, but one second he’d been looking behind him at something one of the other guys had said in the backseat, and next second there had been a car, a screech, and his face had met the dashboard.

It had hurt like shit, and it had taken him a couple of seconds of nursing his bloody nose to realize through watering eyes that the car was filling up with smoke.

The rest of the night was a blur: Noel remembers coughing his lungs out, the ambulance, the hospital, talking to his mam on the phone (who’d called who?), and getting to his hotel room and passing out.

Sighing, he gets up, ignoring the pain in his face and his head. He’s given himself worse of both by his own accord, if he’s honest, but it takes a bit of effort to bite back the groan of pain as he gets up. His neck is stiff, and he feels off, but he supposes being in the front seat of a car as it smashed into other one does that to a person. It could have been a lot worse.

He slowly shuffles into the bathroom, shivering at the chill in his hotel room (where the hell are they anyway? Somewhere in America), and is a little taken aback as he finally looks at his face in the mirror. He’s sporting two fantastic black eyes, and the bridge of his nose and forehead have turned dark purple. He’s lucky he didn’t hit mouth first: he’s not sure he would have any teeth left.

With a shudder, he gets into the shower and turns it as hot as he can stand and stands there for a good 20 minutes, letting the water massage away some of the general ache.

Getting out, he considers proper clothes, but ends up putting on an old sweats that he doesn’t even remember packing. It's too cold and he's too achey for anything else. The concert's cancelled, but Noel doesn’t think he’s going to get any more sleep, so he wanders out of his room to find everyone else. He hasn’t spoken to them since they got back yesterday.

For some reason, his and Liam’s rooms are across from each other’s this time, something he remembers rolling his eyes at. Without thinking, he knocks, before realizing he might have to check the time because who knows if Liam is even up this early. But he hears shuffling and he just _knows_ he’s about to get the piss taken out of him for the mess on his face.

Sure enough, Liam opens the door, fully and snappily dressed, and immediately grins and lets out a teasing whistle.

“Yeah, yeah, let it out.” He grumbles, feeling very underdressed in his sweats. He’s not used to feeling that with Liam of all people.

“Jesus mate, did you break the dash with that honker of yours or what?”

“Almost. You gonna let me in?”

Liam steps off to the side and lets him in with a smirk, and Noel stiffly walks in, feeling the bruises the longer he’s upright and away from the heat of the shower. There’s a twinge between his shoulders that’s only aggravating the pain in his head; he might have to score some of the good painkillers he knows Liam has.

“Where is everyone?” He asks as he trails behind his brother, stopping at the table, distractedly eyeing the random food spread out on it. The room seems to be weirdly empty and there’s usually at least one or two of the crew to be found.

“Sleeping. Who knows?” Liam says, grabbing an apple from the random spread before them. “Show’s been called off on account of some _issues_.”

The lilt on the word issues, sneered, fills Noel with the irritation he’s been working on not acting on, so he just gives his brother an unimpressed look. Why did he even come here? He suddenly feels very stupid: him and Liam don’t do this anymore, just hanging around, but he’d been in a fucking car wreck yesterday and hadn’t seen his brother since, and had just waltzed in because what? He wanted to see him?

Liam grins at his obvious irritation, taking a bite and sauntering over to the fridge.

“Come on then, take a load off mate!” He says casually, clapping noel hard on the back as he walks by.

Noels breath leaves him in a surprised gasp as absolute fire burns out of the spot Liams just whacked, in the middle of his shoulders. He has to catch himself by grabbing onto the chair in front of him, the pain catching him completely off guard.

The walking pauses and there’s noisy chewing from behind him. “What's up with you?”

“Jesus Liam, you trying to fucking kill me?” He grits out through the throbbing between his shoulders. His brother saunters back up to him, and Noel can see him in his peripheral as he focuses hard on the table, suddenly dizzy.

“Sorry, I thought it was just your pretty face.”

He blinks rapidly as his head clears and lifts his head to glare at his brother and immediately regrets it. He can’t stop himself from wincing and sucking in a harsh breath, slamming his eyes shut against the nausea and recoiling back, going very still.

Liam’s gone quiet, which is never a good sign, but Noel can feel him hovering behind his closed eyes as he tries to breathe through the absolute fire that’s now burning down his neck and shoulders. When the hell did his head get so heavy?

“Noel?”

Noel makes an unintelligible noise, which he hopes screams oh my god I’m dying hold on.

“Noel? What the hell have you done to yourself?”

Noel lets out a shaky breath between his teeth and squints his eyes open, not daring to lift his head up to look at Liam again, who’s still hovering right next to him. All the nerves in his back and neck throb, like they’re live wired, and its making him want to throw up, and he forces himself to take a breath and relax and it seems to help a little.

“I dunno. My neck.” He breathes out, and realizes with a bit of hysteria that his hands are shaking where they’re gripping the chair and his fingers are numb.

“Your fucking neck? I thought it was just your face!”

“It was!” He hisses out. His ribs would be a little sore, they’d told him, from the seatbelt, and his face and head would be sore, but he’s sure this isn’t what they meant.

“Hey, sit down, you look like you’re gonna pass out.” Something about the way Liam _moves_ sets him off. The arm suddenly around him, nudging him gently to let go off the chair makes his stomach heave and he has to push him away, gasping in agony.

He’s lucky the bathroom is right there, and he practically stumbles over to it, bracing himself on the wall before he gets to the toilet and retches.

Its agony, throwing up what little he has in his stomach. Every jolt sends spikes up his shoulders to his neck to the base of his forehead, making his entire head throb.

He somehow ends up with his face to the floor when his shaking arms can’t hold him up anymore. A steady arm suddenly around his aching chest keeps him from completely face-planting onto the already tender bruises on his face, but he lays there gasping for breath, basically kissing the floor.

“Noel? Mate, you’re scaring me. Do I need to get someone? Let me get someone.”

“No, don’t move, please.” He gasps out, forcing himself to not move his head or neck or shoulders. Liam listens for once and they stay there for a good minute, Noel gritting his teeth and trying to get the fire down and the world still, Liam hovering over him with his arm still holding him across his chest. Their legs are all tangled, Noels having given out a long time ago. What the fuck has he done to himself? It feels like he’s ripped out the muscles in his neck. He takes a breath, the position and the coolness of the tiles under him making him want to throw up again.

“Fuck. Okay, help me sit up? Slowly.”

It is slow, but it's hell. He almost falls over as the world spins again and his neck burns angrily, and ends up grabbing Liams forearms hard enough to leave bruises as he swears. He feels like his teeth are going to crack from how hard he’s gritting them and he keeps his eyes firmly closed. Liam responds by staying absolutely still and holding him up, hands under his elbows firmly keeping him upright by taking the weight.

“Fuck.” He can barely talk and get in enough air at the same time. “Fuck, that hurts.”

“Do I need to carry you?” Liam sounds worried.

“No, if you move me I’m gonna pass out.” He gasps out in one breath. He squints his eyes open again, eyes fixing into the brown of Liams sweater. He doesn’t dare move his head again.

“Okay, lie back then, and let me get someone.”

“I can’t move my neck.” He grits out. The nausea is abating, but the pain throbs away, although breathing and staying absolutely still seems to be helping. It takes him a minute, but it stops roaring enough for him to start considering his options.

He can’t stay on the floor. He definitely needs medical attention as the words “possible whiplash” from last night suddenly float around in his head.

“Fuck.” he breathes out, forcing himself to relax. Maybe he can stand and then lie flat? “Okay, will you help me stand up?”

“Are you mad?” He’s not. But the thought of getting off the hard floor and into bed until he can get this checked out is appealing. He flicks his eyes up to meet Liams finally, hazily noting the concern in them. "Just fucking do it."

They try, and Liam takes almost all of his weight, but as he gets halfway up, the strain on his shoulders makes him choke and whimper and he has to get his legs under him with effort. He still crumples and ends up with is face in Liams shoulder, gasping hard into the soft sweater.

“I can’t. Somethings wrong. I don’t think I can get up.” God, it fucking hurts. His head is swimming again, and he’s gripping his brothers arms so hard he’s hurting his own fingers too. Is that sweat or tears?

“Just sit back, you idiot. I'll go get someone. Tub's right behind you."

Letting out a breath, he has to consciously loosen his grip on his brothers arm, and he sits back on his butt. Liam moves with him, settling him against the tub. He braces one white knuckled hand on the thankfully low toilet so he’s not leaning back, and one hand stays with Liam bracing him up.

He gives him a minute. When he finally opens his eyes, Liam is looking at him with naked concern. He’s suddenly very aware of his hair matting to his forehead with sweat. He feels too hot and too cold all of a sudden, and swallows as he has to fight the urge to throw up again.

“Okay, you gonna be okay?"

Noel starts to nod, like a moron, then instantly groans and goes still. “Yeah”, he gasps out. “Fuck.”

“Hold _still_ , jesus. Don't go anywhere.” Liam hesitantly lets go off the arm he’d been holding onto, and stands up when Noel stays up on his own. “And If you pass out I’ll never let you forget it.”

* * *

It does end up being whiplash. They get a doctor down in record time, who pokes and prods while Noel braces himself against a returned Liams shoulder, the only position he can seem to get into without moving that doesn’t make him want to cry. Random people are in the background, but Noel can’t focus on them, too busy trying not to punch the doctor in the teeth as he seems to drive his fingers right into his aching skin. Instead he focuses on the brown sweater and tightens his grip even more, very aware of the arms holding him up. Through the nausea and spinning and blinding pain, Noel wonders at the sheer patience and gentleness of the whole thing, but it doesn’t last long.

He chokes out a scream and swears colorfully and hard when the doctor, whoever the hell it is they’ve called, puts a hot pack right where the pain seems to start, at the base of his neck, and almost passes out then and there. If he wasn’t so exhausted from the whole thing, he thinks he would have started struggling, but Liam lets him stay braced against his shoulder, so he grits his teeth and basically sobs and focuses on the feel of the soft sweater on the bruises on his forehead and nose, the much less intense pain keeping him grounded.

Eventually, his sleeve is rolled up, and people are talking but he can’t really hear them, and then there’s a prick in his arm and the world goes fuzzy.

* * *

Liam feels the exact moment the morphine kicks in, because his brother seems to deflate, a relieved sigh that sounds almost like a sob getting muffled into his shoulder.

“Okay, let’s give you a minute, and we’ll get you up and into bed.” The doctor says.

Noel seems to still be catching his breath and says nothing as the doctor starts chasing people out of the bathroom they’re all cramped into. Liam pays them no attention. His knees are already going numb, half curled up on the floor, but he steadily ignores them in favor of keeping his brother braced. His brothers hands are still gripping his forearms, although now loosely, and Liam focuses on feeling the light grip and the soft hair tickling his cheek and neck. Magic drugs, Noel seems to have calmed down and is well on the way to falling asleep right there, not that Liam can blame him after all that.

Eventually, when it’s just the three of them, the doctor has him help Noel up. Liam sees the tear tracks the same second he feels wetness where Noels face just was, and it makes him ache in sympathy. His brother stumbles and hisses in pain a little as they help him up to a standing position, but after a few seconds is able to hobble over to the bed with their help.

They settle him on his back, propped up with pillows to keep his back straight. The doctor mentions cutting off the sweatshirt to make him more comfortable, which Liam immediately nixes because he knows Noel would kill him and everyone else too if that were to happen. It doesn’t seem to bother him at all regardless, since he drifts off as soon as he’s settled, pale face finally relaxed under wet lashes. A soft brace is put on, and Liam listens to the drone of instructions about resting and not moving about with grating impatience.

The doctor gives him the medication and list of instructions and leaves, but Liam’s barely paying attention to him anymore as he covers his brother with a blanket. The second the door shuts behind him, Liam gently wipes the tears from his brothers face, and goes about finding a chair he can drag over.

* * *

Noel wakes up wondering why he can’t move his neck, so he tries moving his shoulder and immediately stops with a groan as pain shoots up his neck. Oh, that’s why.

It’s nowhere near as bad as before, and the way his head is swimming promises that some amazing drugs were used. His entire body is tingling and it feels like he’s floating away and so are his thoughts.

There’s a snore and Noel turns (only his eyes, lesson learned) to see his brother stretched out on a sofa chair that’s been dragged closer to the bed, head propped up on a hand and fast asleep. There’s fuzzy memories of Liam talking to him as he tried not to pass out in the toilet, and the one vivid one he has is a very close close-up of the particular color of brown his brother is wearing.

He tries to reconcile the memory, but his mind is fuzzy and he’s just noticing that it's almost dark out before he drifts off again.

* * *

Liam wakes with a start, already on edge before he remembers where he is. He’s fallen asleep on the sofa. Instantly, his eyes find Noel, who’s still peacefully asleep, and he relaxes back . A hand has made its way to next to his head and rests there, innocently curled up. His hair is flopping all over; they’ve all been busy enough during this toue to not have time to get their hair cut, but the sight of it makes Liam flash back to simpler times.

This entire tour has been a disaster, and while Liam knows he’s no innocent flower amidst all the chaos, things have changed. His brother is bossier, even more controlling than before, and seems to have found a _very_ high horse to climb up on.

Sometimes, Liam doesn’t recognize the guy next to him anymore. Noel, with his respectable haircut and his snappier clothes and his disapproving glares whenever Liam is just being Liam.

But now, looking at this Noel, unguarded, with the long hair and the comfy clothes, all Liam can think of is of Noel a few years ago. Both of them on top of the world, riding high (in more ways than one), their career exploding all around but the two of them latching onto each other and riding it out.

It feels like a stranger lying in his bed, but also only Noel. He wonders when he started thinking this way about his own brother.

There’s a snort and snuffle, and then a groan, and Noels arm shifts gracelessly before his eyes open, blinking at the ceiling. It’s a look Liam’s seen and had many times; he’s still high off of whatever the doctor’s given him. 

The sleepy eyes shift to Liam, and while the eyebrows are pinched and the face is still bruised, there’s no agony like he’d seen in there before. He has to breathe a sigh of relief but suddenly finds himself feeling very exposed. Is Noel going to wonder why he’s been sitting here all this time, watching him sleep like some creep? He’d been wondering the same thing, but hadn’t found himself unable to leave as his brother slept.

Noel's blinking owlishly at him, still. The light from the lamp is the only thing illuminating his face in the now dark room, making him look even paler.

“You alright there?”

There’s another sleepy blink, and Noel seems to still be processing the question. It makes him look so young that Liam has to bite back a smile. It’s nothing like the snappy, self-assured Noel the media (and him, now) get to see lately.

“Yeah.” It’s barely croaked out, and there’s throat clearing. There’s another shuffle, and his hands make to go up to touch the collar, but seem to get tired halfway and flop back down. “What happened?”

“You have whiplash. From the accident. Doctor says you can take that off, if you want, after you take your pills.”

Recognition dawns on his face, before his eyes slip shut.

“Lovely.” it’s dripping with sarcasm, but comes out very soft. “I feel like I’m gonna fly away, but pills sound good.”

They make short work of getting the collar off and propping him on another pillow, though Noels gritting his teeth again and has to take a minute before he can take the pills.

He takes a deep breath as Liam takes back the glass and puts it on the nightstand, trying to keep his eyes open. There’s a couple of other blinks and he seems to be considering his surroundings now that he’s propped up better and can see more than the ceiling.

“Why am I in your room?” It’s asked innocently, but Liam finds himself flushing and immediately defensive. “You came in here and bloody passed out!”

“Oh..” its soft and drawn out, Noels eyes fluttering shut again. “Okay…”

It suddenly hits Liam, the trust he’s being given right now. Their entire relationship this last year has been them at each other’s throats, laying into each other whenever they can, and now his brother is high off his mind, hurt and vulnerable and knows he’s not even in his own room, and sees no problem in falling asleep while Liam is present and could do whatever he wants.

A comfortable silence follows. Liam can tell Noel isn’t asleep, but his eyes are closed as he waits for the pills to kick in again. It seems like he’s still hurting, but it’s nowhere near as bad as before, and Liam finds himself a little taken aback by how relieved he is at that. This is where it all goes wrong, because Liam glances over at the table and suddenly remembers how the whole thing started.

He’d figured Noel had just been a little sore, but he remembers now the clap on the back and how it had started the whole thing.

Jesus, he’s done this, hasn’t he? He’d hurt his brother hard enough to make him cry, the day after a car wreck no less.

He’s so zoned out he doesn’t notice Noels been trying to get his attention, until a hand waves clumsily in front of his face and he looks over.

“Will you help me up? I gotta piss.”

Wordlessly, he does, and Noel shuffles into the bathroom, leaving himself to rage in his own thoughts.

* * *

Noel comes out in ten minutes, which was more than enough time for Liam to down a couple of drinks. His brothers face is damp with water he’d splashed on and looks far more alert. He still shuffles out slowly, stiff and guarded, and it makes Liam feel even more wretched. It’s only been a few hours since he was on the floor.

Liam, angry at himself and really everything else, feels the burn in his throat, aching and miserable.

Noel definitely notices, blinking at the very sudden tension in the room. “What’s wrong with you?”

“Nothing.”

“I..” Noel stops, suddenly looking much more aware of the whole situation. It’s weird how telepathic their link still is. Liam can practically _hear_ Noel properly realizing that he’s in his brothers room in the middle of the night. 9:04pm, the clock reads. No eyes would have been blinked at that years ago, but things are different now. “Do you want me to go?”

He knows why Noel would ask that, considering how the tour has been going so far. He doesn’t want him to go but he also wants him to fuck off and leave Liam to increasingly escalating thoughts, and something about it lights him up, and it’s so _so_ easy to take the guilt and turn it into rage.

“Whatever you want, mate, is fine by me.” The acid in his voice surprises even him, but he can't be fucked right now. 

Noel looks a little shocked and then resigned the next second. It makes Liam feel even shittier. Does Noel really think Liam sat and looked after him all day because he just had nothing better to do? What a fucking prick. Liam can do everything right and Noel would still find a way to make him feel like shit.

“I can go.” Noel says, like it’s that simple. He hesitates. “Could you tell me what the doctor said?”

“Go ask Maggie mate, cause I sure as hell wasn’t listening.”

As patient as Noel is trying to be, he takes the bait with a harsh sigh. “God, what is your problem? Did something happen in the _three_ minutes I was in the loo?”

“No.” He spits out.

“Then what is it??”

“Nothing fucking happened! I’m just sick of you being in me space mate.”

“Hey, I offered to leave, I’m fucking going! You..” He takes a deep breath, wincing a little. Noels been doing that a lot lately when they start up, and Liam knows he’s doing it to control his own anger, but something about it makes him feel inadequate every damn time. He rides his rage like it’s a fucking unicorn, and something about Noel suddenly acting like Liam is something he can breathe away in a few seconds makes him see red.

Noel’s looking at him with an unreadable look, and his eyes flick back to the table and Liam flinches. “Is this about before, back there?” It's hesitant, but sincere, but all it does is make Liam thrum with embarrassment and guilt.

He laughs, and it's cruel. "Of course its fucking not."

"Liam, if you would stop being a cunt for two seconds..."

“You can get off your high horse and go stuff it.” He snarls. “I didn’t fucking know you couldn’t handle a little scruff up without turning into fucking cotton."

"I was in a _wreck_ , you dick. Not much i could have done about it. And if you would just _listen..."_

Liam gets up aggressively enough that he knocks over the glass on the nightstand and it shatters. Noel flinches a little. He barely comprehends any of it.

"God, Liam, why do you always _do_ this?"

"Do _what_?"

"This! Why are we even arguing? I know you didn't fucking mean it, it was just an accident, but why are you fucking yelling at me about it?"

"You're the one blubbering on about it, mate. I just told you to get the fuck out, but _Noel's_ gotta talk about his fucking feelings every ten minutes." Noel looks at him with such obvious irritation it makes him seethe. He doesn't even realize it but the second glass on the nightstand gets picked up and smashed back into it, the glass shards raining and joining the rest of them. "Now get the bloody fuck out before I beat you into the bloody ground."

Noel takes a step back and winces at the simple movement, looking like he’s been slapped. It must be the pain pills, or the outfit, or the hair, but his brother looks ten years younger standing there, blinking at him with obvious hurt. They stare at each other, Liam still breathing hard.

“Give me my pills.” is all Noel says in the end, voice quiet and calm. Liam breaks the eye contact and does as he’s asked, hard. Noel only flinches a little bit as he catches them, gives him one last now impassive look and turns on his heels and leaves. There’s no stomping, no theatrics, no muttered insults and no slamming of the door. It closes behind him softly as he leaves.

Liam stands there and seethes, but stands still until he hears the door opposite to his quietly shut, and then he starts throwing things.


	3. The Accident, Part 2

Liam goes out then, tries to get thoroughly smashed and tries whatever he can to get the image of his brother staring at him, bruised and only able to stand because of pain pills, with such betrayal.

It only works until it stops, and then he’s back to hating himself, only slightly buzzed, surrounded by people that he suddenly doesn’t want to be around. He doesn’t know what the fuck is wrong with him. All he’s done this past year is be angry, feel guilty, feel shitty and fight and drink and tonight, it feels like he’s really just wasted a year of his life.

It’s a night for the books when Liam Gallagher leaves the party early, from some bar he doesn’t know, without some bird he’s going to shag. He gets a cab and heads back to the hotel. It’s not even 1am.

10 minutes later, he’s standing in front of his brothers room, smelling only mildly of alcohol and no drugs in his system. It’s a weird feeling. The key card to Noels room is in his pocket, and he has his hand around it as he tries to decide what to do.

The light is on underneath the door, so he assumes Noel is awake, so he could just knock. But what if he’s asleep and just forgot to turn it off?

The paranoia takes hold before he can stop it. What if he went and passed out with no one to look after him? Is he collapsed by the toilet again? Did everyone just assume that Liam would look after him? That made no sense. Liam didn’t even tell him that the doctor said to rest, the wretched bastard he is.

He doesn’t know how long he stands there, but eventually he can't ignore it, makes up his mind and slips the card in, peeking his head through.

The light ends up being from the bathroom left open. The layout of the room is different than his: bigger, he notices with a dash of irritation, which he quickly tamps down. Finally, he finds the bedroom.

It’s completely dark and Noel is passed out on the bed, upside down. The pillow is set at the foot of the bed, and Noel seems to have most of his shoulders on the pillow too. Liam wonders how that’s comfortable, but assumes it must be, but suddenly has vague memories of the doctor saying that Noel should only lie on his back or side. Great, now he would have to wake him up.

“Oy. Noel”

He pokes his shoulder, gently. Nothing. He must be really out of it. He looks peaceful enough, blankets pulled up to his neck, fingers curled loosely around the pillow. There’s only a slight pinch of giant eyebrows, and his bruised face is mostly relaxed. The bottle of pills is lying unopened on the dresser, and Liam tamps down the urge to open it and count to make sure his idiot brother didn’t take too many. Liam had only given him some – oh it’s been four hours already.

Like clockwork, like he just _knows_ , there’s a slow inhale, then a long groan. The fingers leave the pillow and curl on his forehead instead. Liam instantly realizes that Noel hasn’t realized he’s there, so is making no attempt to hide the pain he’s in. Stubborn bastard.

He clears his throat and Noel swears and jumps in surprise, the calm of the room suddenly shattering.

“Jesus Christ.” He says, breathing hard and blinking up at him in shock. “What the hell are you doing?”

“You were sleeping.” Liam says, feeling increasingly out of place as Noel immediately struggles out of bed. There’s a glare of warning when Liam moves to help, and he wisely stays back. It takes him a couple of second but he manages to get out and goes right past him to the bathroom, slamming the door shut behind him.

Liam sighs and waits. And waits. He figures Noels in there waiting for Liam to just leave, but he stays firmly rooted to the ground.

Noel eventually comes out, eyes hard. He doesn’t seem surprised to still see him there, but he does seem very annoyed, and angrily grabs his pills off the dresser and just looks at them.

“What do you want, then?” He’s defensive, Liam realizes with a frown. Still stiff as a board.

“Will you _relax_ , I didn't come here to fight.” Liam says, keeping his voice calm. “I just…”

“No?“ He gets interrupted, steely eyes meeting his. “That’s a first.”

Noel lets him squirm, vindictive bastard. Liam supposes he deserves it. He takes a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully and making sure they sound as sincere as they are.

“I didn’t.” A breath. “I didn’t mean it okay? You know I didn’t mean it.”

There’s a scoff. “Do I?”

The anger flares up again. “You fucking should!”

He regrets it the next second when something in his brothers face crumples before he takes a shaking breath, and Liam is floored to see actual tears welling in his brothers eyes. Noel swears then, and there’s the anger on his end too, and throws his pills hard onto the nightstand, where they clatter harmlessly on the floor.

“I can’t do this with you right now, Liam. Can you go? I need to pass out.”

“Noel, honest to god, I just came to check up on you.”

“Yeah?” It’s sneered out. “Bars close early? Got yourself kicked out? Get the fuck out, Liam.”

“God, will you stop.”

“I don’t have to stop anything. Get the fuck out of my room.” He points aggressively, but it’s obviously the wrong move as he recoils with a swear, going pale, and he’s half on his knees before Liam can even move, bracing himself on the bed.

“You have to take your pills again, you idiot.”

He gets some water, and shakes out the pills and Noel wordlessly takes them, downing the pills. A helping hand is immediately growled away, and he shifts slowly until he’s sitting leaning against the bed, breathing hard, elbows on knees and head in hands. Liam sighs and lowers himself onto the floor, awkwardly sitting cross legged a good distance away.

It takes a good 20 minutes for his brothers shoulders to finally relax, and when Noel lifts his head up, the tears are clear as day.

“Why are you still here?” He whispers, frustration leaking out of every pore.

Liam sighs helplessly. “I was worried about you.” It’s true, but Noel gives a watery, derisive laugh before his face crumples again and he rubs his palms hard against his bruised eyes, wincing.

“Bullshit. Fuck me, I can’t keep doing this with you, Liam.” He chokes out, dropping his hands again. “I just can’t. It does me head in. I never know what you're fucking going to _do_."

"I lashed out, okay, and I didn't mean it. I just got in me head and I lashed out. You know I lash out, it's what I _do_." It sounds stupid when he says it, but it's the truth.

"Fucking, fuck _off_. I can’t...you take care of me one second and the next you're what? Ready to beat me into the ground? Those were your fucking words.” He spits out, hands shaking as he looks away, and Liam has to swallow hard.

“I didn't mean it. You have to know that.”

Noel scoffs, not meeting his eyes. “Jesus Liam, do I? Because I believed you today.” Something crumples in his face again, and he looks down at his shaking hands, tears lingering on already wet lashes. “I was standing there, high off my mind on drugs I don't take anymore, and I could barely move, and I really believed you would lay me out if I said another word.”

He hadn’t thought of it that way, that loss of control to an already vulnerable situation, and it makes him feel a little sick. There’s more tears now, and Noel goes to wipe them and immediately winces away with when it seems to aggravate his bruises too much.

“I don’t.. I don't fucking know where I stand with you anymore.” It’s whispered out, shaking hand covering his eyes as more tears leak out. “It’s so fucked up, it’s all _so_ fucked up.”

He chokes off into silence and there’s a stunned silence as Liam digests what his brother is saying, and it feels like the first time in years he’s actually listened. He’s thinking back to all the things they’ve done to each other, over the years, on this tour even, and finds himself wondering the same thing. Where do they even stand anymore? When had it moved past regular fights, brotherly brawls to Noel not being sure Liam wouldn't actually attack him when he was already hurt and defenseless?

There’s a shuddering breath that snaps Liam out of his slightly panicky thoughts, and his brother stands then, shakily bracing himself on the bed and edging away when Liam moves to help him. All the anger seems to have left, replaced by what looks a lot like defeat. “Just..” There’s another shaky breath, tired and sad. He’s trying to play it off, like they normally do when they blow out, but this is _different_. They both know it. “I don’t want to hear it. I can’t tonight. I just wanna pass out. Can you go? I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

He doesn’t know what possesses him to do it. Maybe its the slightly sick feeling still lingering in his stomach at his brothers words. Maybe it’s the way Noels lips are wobbling, like he’s barely holding back more tears, or the stupid floppy hair and baggy rumpled sweats, or the way he’s still holding himself up so carefully. Either way, he looks like he’s two seconds from breaking apart, so Liam goes with his instincts and envelops him into a gentle hug.

It’s a proper hug too, he even bends down a little bit so Noel won’t have to crane his head up too much, and he puts his hands very gently on his back. There’s a little stilted breath, pain or surprise, Liam doesn’t know, but Noel makes no move to move away but no move to hug back either. He just stands there, and Liam very softly puts his chin on his shoulder.

“I’m an idiot, alright? I didn’t mean it. I swear on mam I didn’t mean it. I wouldn’t." He blows out a breath, trying to be careful with his words. "I got in me head and I fucked it up, but I would never. And honest to god, I came back early because I was worried about you.”

Noel takes a shuddering breath, then another, then finally his head gently comes to rest on his shoulder, and Liam anticipates feeling the tears even before they soak through. His brother is shaking, each breath stilted and wet, but he lets Liam hold him without protest.

“Why do you have to be such a fucking dick?” It’s choked out, wet and teary, and the wobbly voice is nothing like the self-assured Noel he’s used to. There’s a million things he could throw back to that, but he finds himself taking a breath.

“I dunno. I'm a cunt, I know. But I would never hit you when you’re down. You’re me brother, I would die before I...” He trails off, reminding himself to keep his big mouth under control for once and not say anything that he's not ready to stand by. "You're me brother. _That's_ where you fucking stand. I would die for you, no questions asked."

  
Liam says it and finds he means it, for the first time in a long time. Noels breath hitches and he nods into his shoulder after a long second. Liam brings a hand up to cup the soft hair, petting gently as his brother sniffles into his shoulder.

They stand there for a good few minutes it feels like, before Noel takes several deep breaths while Liam patiently holds on, vaguely thinking this is kind of nice before Noel steps back.

His face is teary, and his shoulders are more relaxed now that the meds must be kicking in, and he’s flushed red with embarrassment as he puts his palms over his eyes and takes a couple of more deep breaths.

"Fuck me, these stupid pills." 

Liam knows it's not all the pills fault, but Noel looks and sounds wrecked, so Liam lets him have it. His brother looks spent, like he doesn’t have the energy to even hold himself up anymore. Liam turns away to take off his jacket to give Noel a moment, and when he turns around his brother is still standing there with palms now on his forehead, red rimmed eyes closed as he just stands there and breathes. But the anger is gone, replaced by sheer exhaustion.

Wordlessly, Liam gently ushers him into bed, making him lie on his back, muttering about the doctor saying that’s what he should do to get better. Noel is so out of it he doesn’t even say anything, instead slowly blinking up at him with an unreadable expression. He looks so young and unguarded again, red eyes and bruised face and owlish eyes, that Liam has the sudden thought that whatever happens in the next few seconds is going to be make or break, and he knows he’s not going to fuck it up.

“Are you..?” He starts, then clears his throat, looking very unsure but trying very hard to be casual. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Liam gives him a break. It really is the least he can do. 

“Budge over. I lost my room key at the bar.”

That gets him the smallest of smirks and what they both know is a purely insincere eye roll, but he wordlessly slides over, and Liam carefully crawls in next to him.

Noels eyes are already blinking closed, red rimmed and puffy as they face each other, but lighter and more open than Liams seen them in a long time.

"You smell like a brewery." It's teasing and mumbled, and Liam has to try really hard not to grin like an idiot.

"Bite me."

Noel smiles and drifts off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I obviously own nothing but my desire to see these two fix everything with hugs and love each other again.


End file.
